


Your Melody

by ishipthat



Series: Sterek Drabbles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Singer Stiles, Singing, but not really???, post-alphas, snippets of derek and stiles across the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipthat/pseuds/ishipthat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Tumblr prompt; "Your melody sounds as sweet as the first time it was sung".</p><p>
  <i>Stiles sings when he’s alone because it makes him feel less lonely. It blocks out the itching feeling under his skin that tells him to move and work and keep busy. Singing lets him relax the way gaming and blogging doesn’t.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Melody

**Author's Note:**

> This came from an anonymous prompt on Tumblr that said _"oh! oooh! lyric prompt! "Your melody sounds as sweet as the first time it was sung"."_ I just wanted to write a fluffy drabble~

The truth about Stiles is that he can’t sing for shit.

Scott has known since 4th grade, his dad has known since he could speak, and Derek has known since… well, since he met Stiles.

It’s not long after he tracks Scott and Stiles on his property that he decides to scope them out, gauge whether or not they’re an actual threat. It’s not hard to break into the Stilinski household and Derek isn’t sure if it’s poor skills on the Sheriffs behalf or stupidity on Derek’s for breaking into his house.

Once he’s inside he can hear the shower running from upstairs and trusts his instincts enough to look around anyway, absently tracing his fingers across the kitchen counter. He stops dead outside the bathroom door when he hears an awful warbling that almost sends him scampering out the back door again. Stiles’ voice is still ringing in his ears when he backs up around the corner, and Derek has no idea if he’s trying to sing or summon a fucking demon.

"Dumb kid," He mutters, leaving the house not long after.

It turns out that Stiles sings a lot when he thinks he’s alone. Derek finds this out because he tends to seek Stiles out when he’s away from Scott.

It doesn’t take long, after the Alpha’s, for everyone to establish a routine regarding their duties in Derek’s makeshift pack. His loft becomes a hub of activity and somehow remains that way even after the supernatural encounters of some kind or another. Stiles spends a lot of time alone in the loft, especially when his dad works late and all the wolves embark on their woodland adventures.

Stiles sings when he’s alone because it makes him feel less lonely. It blocks out the itching feeling under his skin that tells him to move and work and keep busy. Singing lets him relax the way gaming and blogging doesn’t.

He’s laid on Derek’s coach with an arm tucked behind his head, blurting out the chorus to an All Time Low song, when Derek slams the door open. He knows Derek probably heard him on his way up, and that slamming the door was a signal for him to stop, but he’s not exactly embarrassed by it. He knows he’s an awful singer, but he does it anyway, and Stiles isn’t the type to get embarrassed by much.

"How was your frolic in the moonlight?" Stiles asks, tipping his head backwards off the arm of the coach to look at Derek.

"Alright," He huffs, wiping sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. "Erica kept chasing Isaac into the river." Stiles snorts and slinks away from his seat to grab some sodas from the fridge.

Derek watches the smooth lines of him as he slides off the coach and into a standing position, arching his back to click all the kinks out of his spine.

\---

One afternoon in July, when Beacon Hills is suffering the end of a heat wave, Stiles announces that it’s high time someone had a barbeque. He’s digging out the weather-worn barbeque pit in his back garden when Derek drops by. Derek pulls up in his Camaro and switches off the engine only to hear Stiles yelling out half-remembered tunes from around back.

When he approaches his ears train on the tinny sound of earplugs blasting out a pop song he vaguely recalls from the radio a few days prior.

"Baby you, la la la, nobody else. The way yeah something, la la la overwhelmed." Stiles shouts, his voice attempting to stick to a melody as he hacks away at one of the bricks.

Derek just watches, outside of Stiles periphery, and smiles. There’s something about seeing Stiles like this that had always made him feel… special, or something. He didn’t let people hear him sing freely - the first time Stiles had caught Derek listening he’d freaked out and told him to piss off - but Derek had somehow earned the right to hear Stiles sing. Somewhere between the full moons and late night research sessions they’d dropped their guard around each other. It was nice for him to feel easy around Stiles the way he never had with another human since the fire.

Stiles was now chipping away the dirt in time with the music, nodding his head lightly, and Derek couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. Derek _liked_ Stiles’ singing voice, his awful, trembling, off-pitching yelling that sounded so free and trusting and _happy_ to Derek’s ears. The first time he heard it, it felt a lot like an invasion of privacy, something he wasn’t supposed to have. But now it just sounded like comfort.

The song came to an end and he shifted behind Stiles, drawing his attention. “Dude, how long have you been there?” He asks with an accusing grin, pulling his earplugs out. “What have I said about this creeping business.” He points a trowel in Derek’s direction and when Derek doesn’t respond he frowns.

"Sorry you had to listen to that rubbish, you should’ve let me know you were there, I would’ve shut up."

Derek’s frown evens out and he looks down at Stiles with a serious expression. “No,” Stiles flinches a little and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I like your singing.”

Stiles just scoffs at that and stands up to reach his drink from the table behind Derek. But a hand on his chest stops him. “Derek, I-“

He almost gets out another word, but Derek’s lips are stopping him before he can manage it. The kiss is light and quick, more like the way a couple would greet each other, the way you’d punctuate an argument or say goodnight. And when Derek pulls back Stiles’ eyes are still closed, his breathing shallow.

"You must really like my singing." He croaks, eyes fluttering open.

"Yeah, I really do." And Derek just bends down to pick up the trowel, carrying on where Stiles left off.


End file.
